


Sang Chaud

by usuk



Category: Hannibal(TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 05:16:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usuk/pseuds/usuk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Original posting has been edited and updated/</p><p>Dr. Lecter and Abigail share a moonstruck moment; Dr. Lecter quenches his thirst for blood, Abigail discovers the joys of surfing the crimson tide</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sang Chaud

Hannibal Lecter blinked once. He gave a cursory glance around his library. He was confident that no one—so far—had disturbed anything.  The exquisite juxtaposition of desk and chair, visitor’s chair’s, each just slightly lower than his own, the muted, indirect lighting, all orchestrated, nothing arbitrary.  The blank fencing mask that spoke volumes rested undisturbed in its place, the lion’s head bookends supporting some of his most prized volumes; no first additions these, tomes that would never fall to the auctioneer's gavel; very special one-of-a-kind editions bound in the soft, supple leftovers from some of his more memorable culinary adventures. 

He reached for the light switch, his effort controlled, rehearsed, so that when his fingers caressed the the switch it was an elegant and intended act.   Sitting in the dark, he settled in his desk chair and straightened the perfect crease of his trousers. He was certain he would not be waiting long. 

2 minutes, 53 seconds and he caught a scent.  He was impressed that she this was the only indicator of her presence. He noted  faux natural chemicals; herbal shampoo, the fresh aroma of  body wash, but underneath an authentic hint of corruption. Ah, she was menstruating.   How nice.  He allowed himself a flicker of a smile.

The door to his office swung open.

"Dr. Lecter?" She was just so deliciously tentative.

Lecter leaned forward, a spare finger twitch to turn on his desk lamp, his face emerging from the dark in bas relief. 

“Welcome back Abigail.  I have missed you.”

How did you know..,,--Um I am so sorry to have come without an appointment, but I just had to see you,” she said.  Her tone was rushed;  Dr. Lecter smiled to himself, knowing she had been rehearsing this speech for him .

“My dear, you need no appointment. After our last encounter you cannot be my patient, ergo you must be my-what?”

“girlfriend?” she tried.  He simply stared at her.

“Lover?” she said tentatively. "Paramour?"

“Yes, yes, that is the entirely correct word.”  Lechter smiled just enough to show his canine teeth.

“What brings you here at this particular time?”  he asked.

I-I just wanted to see you.  After last time..”

“Ah, you blush so prettily.  Abigail. I must tell you I have never, ever  before engaged sexually with someone with whom I have  professional relationship.”  This new territory for both of us.”  But you must trust me. I will care for you for as long as I am able. Come here.”

He rose from his desk, in one fluid motion removing his suit coat and draping it across his desk chair. Then he went to her guiding her back to the desk, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back, as he took her left hand in his own. He stopped her in front of the desk and turned her to face him, slipping his hands to her waist. She reached her arms around his neck, gazing up at him, marveling at the fine bones in his face. She felt his cock harden as they embraced.

You have done so much for me already,” she said, “helping get past the issues with my father, with Nicholas....”

“Let us not speak of such things." They swayed slightly, his cock, now fully hard, pressed against the inner seam of her thigh.

“Um, ok...But before we go any further there is something you should know,” Abigail said uncertainly.

“is it that you are in the midst of your menstrual cycle?” he asked.

“Ah, once again you blush so prettily.  So I see it's true.”

“Yes,” I'm sorry. I guess this means we can't...um, but maybe there are other ways I can make you feel good?

“Can't what? Can't make love? But of course we can. Let me guide you my dear.”

Lecter went to the door, securing the latch from the inside. Then in 3 brisk strides he was back before her. He took her in his arms, his face nuzzling her hair. His gentle touch gave no clue of the mental storm raging in his head; visions of antlers, of blood, of filtering organs curing on wax paper.  He wrapped her in his arms, nuzzled her neck like he knew a human would, breathing her scent, the sweet, clean smell of her skin mixed with the ever so subtle taint of her blood.  It was this latter scent that saved her.

He spun her around so she was facing the desk and she felt his erect cock pressed against the crack of her ass.  She sighed and leaned back against his chest, her own arms enfolding his, her pelvis grinding back against him.  She tilted her face to him.  He reached under her chin, turning her face a bit, then kissed her full on the mouth.   She opened her lips, probing his mouth with her tongue. He responded in kind, his own tongue probing deeper, harder, with greater urgency.  She turned in his arms to face him, to center her mouth on his. She felt his hardness through his perfectly pressed trousers, reached down to stroke him. He pushed her hand away ; “not yet” he murmured.  Then he bit her lip. Hard.

“Ahh,,,?” she started, pulling back, her hand flying to her lip.  She ran her tongue over the wound, tasting her own blood.

“I'm so sorry my dear, please forgive my passion.  Here, let me kiss it better,” he said.  He took her face in his hands, tilted her head in the light to better examine the wound.  His tone was honeyed and calming,  yet there was a wanton glint in his eyes as he first examined, then gently kissed the blood welling from her lower lip.

She looked up at him, her doe eyes wild with fear and lust. 

He sucked the blood from her lip, gently at first, holding her face in his hands, then as the bloodlust rose in his eyes, his hands moved from her face to her breasts, from her breasts to her ass. He clenched her and drew her closer, grinding his erect member into her groin.

Then he was tearing at her clothes; how could something as simple as undressing be so complicated?  His tie, her blouse; his shirt. her bra, his pants, her skirt, his boxers. her slip and t-back, and then they were naked. She marveled at his erect cock; how could something so beautiful and enormous hide in his trousers? He pushed her back into his desk chair, her hair cascading over the shoulders of the jacket he had draped there.

Hannibal kissed her even harder on the mouth, once again sucking blood from her lower lip, then kissed her ear, slid his tongue down her jawline and paused to suckle her right breast before kneeling before her, his face poised just in front of her lush, fragrant bush.

His nostrils flared as he inhaled her fecund bouquet.

 “I smell you, I smell your blood,” he breathed.  Staring up into her eyes, he pressed his left hand against her vulva, palm out, fingers split down the sides of her labia, then with his right hand found the string to her tampon. With a single smooth, steady pull, he deftly slipped it out, the startling white of the tampon contrasting beautifully with the deep red of her visceral moon-blood. Lecter passed it under his nose, inhaling deeply just as he had with very fine Amaroni he had served the previous evening with a lovely veal dish. “Hmmm,” he rumbled deep in his throat, “fine vintage.” Still staring deeply into her eyes, he reached around her shoulder and plucked the silk square from the front pocket of his suit coat, then carefully centered the tampon and meticulously, almost lovingly, folded the silk over blood and carefully placed it on his desk. His angular, handsome face never once changed expression, except for the tiniest flicker at the corner of his left eye.

He reached up and placed his right index and middle fingers in Abigail's mouth; she sucked hungrily, her tongue active, his fingertips inhaled to the back of her throat. He withdrew his fingers and then using both hands prized open her outer labia to reveal her bloody, glistening inner planes. Leaning forward, still gazing into her eyes, he dipped just the tip of his tongue in her the viscous, fragrant blood seeping from deep within her. He flicked his tongue a couple of times, then pulled back, paused for a beat, then plunged his face forward, his lips and tongue active and mobile, lapping at her, prising her cunt open. At first she was merely wet, but as he continued to mouth her, first a streak, then a trickle, then a flood of crimson tinged juices flowed from deep insider her, and Lecter's increasingly intense ministrations smeared blood as high as her waist and well down both thighs.

Abigail had never been touched before while on her period. At first she was queasy; it was messy, she knew and had to be smelly, but the fact that he seemed not to care coupled with how sensitive she was made it impossible for her to do anything other than lie back as he fucked her with his face. He was very adept, alternatively licking and nuzzling her clitoris and then plunging his tongue deep insider her, then trailing long, slow, wet licking from her fundament to the top of her luxuriant thatch, then back. Slowly, inexorably she responded, until she simply could not resist the heat, the velvet hardness, the virtuoso stimulation that was working to a cresendo. It was sooo erotic that he was so obviously aroused. ravenous in his hunger for her. As hea devoured her, tasted her, drank her blood, he was—humming didn't quite capture it, but there was a deep, rapacious rattle in his throat that vibrated straight through her clit and through to her spine. Unaware she was doing so, she made small, mewling sounds, her breath coming hot and fast as her body arched to meet his tongue, seeking the perfect balance between pressure and pacing that would bring release. Lecter worked on her until she was ready to come, then eased off, then worked her back, then eased off. 

"Don't tease me," she gasped. 

She cried out, clawing at Lecter's head and shoulders as she came, then came, then came until she lost track of time, of space of sense. It was the hardest, most profound thing she had ever felt. Her back arched over and over, , her vision went blank, she forgot to breath. Her entire body constricted, held for an impossibly long instant, then relaxed all at once. She was awash in her own sopping pussy juices, her own blood and sleek with sweat. Lecter cocked an eyebrow at her, then pulled back to give her a moment to recover. 

Abigail looked down between her legs and the the enormity of the moment washed over her. There, between her blood-streaked thighs, was the face of Hannibal Lecter, his beautiful, patrician face bathed in crimson from eyebrows to chin with her blood. And for the first time she really saw him; gone was the facade of calm, the iron control. Here was a man laid bare, all want, all need, his face contorted and cruel, his eyes glowing sensual, wanton and wicked.  And she knew. Time stopped for her, the entire warp and waft of being seemed to reshuffle to form a world that looked exactly like the old one, but was entirely different.. She saw him in all his savage splendor, and knew him for the predator he was. This was new, this was dangerous, this was oh so incredibly hot. She leaned back, closed her eyes and pressed his face more firmly between her thighs.

**Author's Note:**

> This entry was inspired by Gul and is intended as a follow-on to the relationship between Dr. Lecter and Abigail. If you've stumbled on this entry and have not read Gul's work, you should!


End file.
